


Out

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are about five seconds of silence and thirty seconds of yelling before the teachers step in.</p><p>episode tag for 3x06 ("Mash-Off")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out

**Author's Note:**

> warning for implied (canonical) homophobia

There are about five seconds of silence and thirty seconds of overlapping yelling - Santana, Finn, Rachel, and for some reason Sugar - before Mr. Schuester and Ms. Corcoran step in and march Finn and Santana out of the the auditorium to see Principal Figgins with Rachel and Brittany trailing close behind.

Everyone stares after them. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. They just stare.

“Damn,” Mercedes says from her spot on the stage, and the word is like a magic incantation that unfreezes them all.

Kurt manages to draw the first breath he’s taken in a minute. He doesn’t know what happened, but he does. He _knows_. Santana was outed. By Finn, somehow, and Kurt knows when he follows that bit of information where it takes him it will not be pretty, but right now, right this minute, that’s not the point.

Santana was outed. Santana, who loves Brittany almost as much as he loves Blaine but who is as fragile as a glass flower when she even thinks about showing it in public, was outed. And it sounds like it’s a much, much bigger deal than it being just to the school. That would be bad enough. Kurt of all people knows.

He takes another slow breath and focuses on staying calm. He needs to be able to think.

“Was that what I think it was?” Blaine asks him, his voice hushed and his eyes still fixed on the spot where Santana had been standing in front of Finn.

Nodding, Kurt clears his throat. “Yes.” He sounds steady to his own ears.

Blaine turns to him. “We have to _do_ something.”

“I know.” Kurt leans down to pick up his bag, because he simply can’t stay here, but Blaine stops him with a hand on his arm.

“No, Kurt, we have to - “ Blaine tells him, all wide, earnest eyes and barely concealed distress.

“I _know_ ,” Kurt snaps back. He shakes off Blaine’s arm and stands up. “I need to go to my locker.”

Kurt leaves the auditorium, and the part of him that isn’t focused on what lies ahead is grateful that Blaine is following him. He’s not alone anymore, and it’s especially important to him to remember that right now.

At least Santana has Brittany, as much as anyone can hold the sparkling fairy light that is Brittany, but at least she won’t be alone, either, if she just _lets_ people near -

Kurt shakes his head, stopping himself from continuing that train of thought, and walks faster down the hall. After a second, Blaine matches his pace, a few steps behind.

“Did _Finn_ \- ?” Blaine asks as Kurt reaches his locker and spins open his lock.

“That’s what she said,” Kurt replies. He starts to pull out the books from the day from his bag and arrange them in their usual tidy line. He’ll be happy he took the time if he needs to find something quickly tomorrow.

“That’s _horrible_.”

Setting his jaw, Kurt nods. English essay. He has an English essay due Thursday. He should bring those books home now so he doesn’t forget them. He sorts through the books and folders in his locker, but of course the volume he needs is a small paperback play, easy to fall down behind the bigger items he has just lined up so neatly.

Kurt sighs and starts pulling the books in the front of his locker back out, resting them in the bend of his elbow as he looks for the play.

“What are you doing?” Blaine asks.

“Trying to find my copy of _Love’s Labour's Lost_.”

“What? This isn’t the time. Kurt, Santana just - “

“I _know_.”

“Then what are you - ?” Blaine starts, and Kurt cuts him off yet again.

“Just give me a minute and let me find the damn _play_ , Blaine.”

Blaine touches his arm again and pulls until Kurt meets his eyes. Blaine looks upset; he’s never able to hide his emotions, and his distress is plain on his face. He’s worried about Santana, angry about Finn, and confused about Kurt. He’s probably also remembering his own coming out, just as Kurt is.

The circumstances were different, but Kurt remembers the terror and shame of it all, anyway. He remembers people saying horrible, hurtful things about and to him when he wasn’t ready to hold his head high about himself, before he’d realized that being honest about himself was so much more powerful than whatever jeers people could send his way. He remembers what it was like to feel the weight of other people’s disgust in their every word, every look, every unwelcome touch just because he was being himself. If he’s honest, that part hasn’t fully gone away, no matter that he no longer thinks their hate deserves his attention because what he is and what he has are so much more than they’ll ever understand. He’s still so tired of being looked at that way. Sometimes it takes all of his energy and determination not to be worn down by it.

More than anything, he remembers being so, so terrified to tell his father, because the threat of losing his father’s love is still a powerful enough fear that it makes it hard to breathe when he thinks of it. It was the most frightening thing he’s ever done. And he chose the time. He chose the time, and he has the best father in the entire universe.

“Blaine, I know,” Kurt says. That’s all he can say, because his voice wavers just a little despite himself, the clock is ticking in his head, and he still hasn’t found that fucking play.

His eyes searching Kurt’s face, Blaine squeezes his arm before letting go. He says again, more quietly, “We have to do something.”

“Since she slapped Finn I think Figgins will sigh at her for about ten minutes before he gets overwhelmed by her being all Lima Heights at him and throws up his hands like the ineffectual authority figure he is. I want to be outside his office before she leaves.” Kurt pulls out his spare dress shirt and puts it on top of the pile of books in his arms.

“Do you think she’ll...“

Kurt shakes his head but sighs with relief when he sees the little tan booklet. He slips it out from beneath his lab notebook and slides it into his bag. “No,” he says as he starts to put his books away again. “I give her a ninety-nine percent chance of walking right past without even making eye contact.”

He glances over at Blaine, who nods thoughtfully. He looks relieved, though, despite the sadness in his eyes. “But there’s that one percent.”

Smiling the smallest amount, because of course Blaine gets it, Kurt repeats, “There’s that one percent.” He considers his touch-up kit. Santana will have been crying, and though she probably won’t want anyone close enough to touch her she’ll be grateful for the chance to remove the mascara-streaked trails of evidence if she’s willing to hear the offer. He adds it to his bag.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Kurt warns him. He shuts his locker door. “She doesn’t let people close. She doesn’t like being vulnerable. A large part of that one percent is the possibility she’ll take it out on _us_. Loudly.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Blaine says. “At least we’ll be there, and she’ll know it.”

“Yes.” Kurt holds out his hand to Blaine and feels some of the walls around his heart crack when Blaine takes it in his own warm, firm, familiar grip. He knows he’s going to have a spectacular melt-down, but that can wait until they’ve seen Santana. Finn’s not going to know what hit him.

“Let’s go,” Kurt says, and the two of them walk toward the principal’s office together. He knows just where they’re going to stand. There’s no way Santana is going to miss them.


End file.
